


The Baby Problem

by VirginiasWolf



Category: Death in Paradise
Genre: But This Is One Night In What Is Normally A Good Life For Richard, F/M, Well Except For The Whole Discovering That Babies Can Be Nasty, What Could Have Been, What Should Have Been, domestic fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-23 20:38:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19708996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VirginiasWolf/pseuds/VirginiasWolf
Summary: All the challenges that Richard Poole and Camille Bordey have previously faced pale in comparison to parenthood and what turns out to be one of the more disgusting moments related to having a baby.





	The Baby Problem

The sound of crying comes through the baby monitor and Richard rolls over groggily trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

"It's your turn to take care of her," Camille mutters before he can even try to ask if perhaps she'll get up this time.

Despite the annoyance of getting up out of bed right now, he can't help but marvel about how everything has worked out so much better than he expected with her. First, their work partnership, which he had initially assumed would go down in flames due to their clashing personalities, but had instead blossomed into a romantic relationship he had been so sure could never work. He'd been so sure that she'd realize she deserved better than him; someone younger and more sure of themselves, but much to his amazement she'd actually agreed to not just date him, but marry him as well. Now they were on their latest adventure together; parenting. Admittedly, he had planned to start this particular adventure before he had reached his late forties, but he's particularly glad it is one he gets to have with her, and their daughter is admittedly rather adorable.

Quickly, he gets up out of bed without looking at the monitor to see what the problem is. He assumes he'll have to warm up a bottle of milk and maybe rock her a little until she falls back asleep; a rather easy job which will lead to him soon being back in bed with his wife.

The awful yet distinctive smell hits him the moment he walks into the nursery. His beautiful, perfect daughter has managed to pull off her soiled diaper and turn the results into an art project, and worse yet is how the island heat has helped to heighten the aroma of this display.

Richard grimaces in disgust as he makes his way over to the crib. "Oh come on, you're better than this." His bare foot lands in something soft and squishy, which quickly reveals itself to be the discarded diaper, and he can't help but let out an involuntary shriek that he is sure must sound almost girlish.

Seconds later, Camille appears in the doorway to the nursery apparently summoned by the shrieking. "Oh come on, you don't have to act like a big baby about taking care of the child you helped create!" Before she can go further in her rant, the true nature of the situation dawns on her, and he can see the exact moment her eyes go wide in horror. "That couldn't have all came from Cati, could it have?"

"Well, I don't know Camille. Perhaps some jungle creature has chosen to make our home his personal toilet. Would you rather clean the baby or the nursery?"

"Baby. Definitely the baby." Of course, she'd pick what seems to be the easier job. He can't exactly blame her though.

Richard's first move is to examine the now empty crib, which is done with some measure of nausea. "I don't pull off my undergarments and spread my shit everywhere. It's hardly practical." 

He thinks he's speaking only to himself until Camille yells from the other room. "I should hope not. That wouldn't be appropriate behavior for a man of your standing." At least there seems to be something cheeky in her tone.

The crib survey reveals that the blankets and stuffed animals will definitely need to be washed, and fecal matter seems to be spread on several of the bars. It has also managed to make its way onto the wood floor. If the discovery of infant to feces ratio had been the result of a case breaking experiment he would be impressed, but because it is the result of his own child, he is less so.

Unsure of where to begin, he starts by stripping the crib of its sheets and stuffed animals. The sheets can go into the washing machine, as can the hardier toys, but one of the animals is a handcrafted bear that had also belonged to Camille when she was a child.

The thing now has only one eye and fur that has gone thin in some places, but he'd seen the way Camille had burst into tears when Catherine had revealed that she had kept it stored away. He can't put something of this much importance at the mercy of the machine even though he is about to suggest that it be retired to place of honor on a shelf where it will be free from further dangers.

"I guess we all get shit on sooner or later, don't we? Most of the time it's far less literal though." He's carrying on a conversation with the bear as he tries to clean the fecal matter out of its fur. Being caught in such an act would likely ruin his image as the tough inspector, but he has no intention of being caught; except sleepiness has made his guard a little lower and he doesn't hear the footsteps behind him until it's too late to pretend he was just trying to clean an old toy that had been passed down from his wife to his daughter.

"Cati is in her playpen in a fresh diaper. Why don't I clean the floors while you do the crib?" She doesn't mention that she's caught him in a softer moment, but the way she is smiling when he turns around tells him that he's been caught red-handed.

He hopes that she'll keep this little moment secret. He doesn't really mind her seeing him for exactly who he is, after all, isn't that what marriage is supposed to be about, but he can hardly expect to still be able to control his team, especially newer members, if it becomes known that he really is little more than a big softie. Even so, the soft-hearted part of him doesn't want to have to put his wife through having to continue to help clean up this mess especially since she's already technically done her part. "Go back to bed Camille."

"Oh come on, you're not going to deny me a chance to see you getting all sweaty in those pajamas, are you?" He must have made an involuntary expression of disgust at the mention of sweat because she quickly drops the teasing tone. "This is still a two person job, and we do our best work together."

She's pressed the right buttons by reminding him that he does have another person to depend on now, but outside of the sentimentality, it really is a two person job. He'd thought babies were charming and cute, and he'd especially thought his own baby would be charming and cute enough not to do THAT. Sure he assumed that she'd grow up to be feisty and fiery just like her mother, but certainly, those behaviors would at least hold off until she could talk. This was something else entirely, something disturbing that made him want to call up his own parents and apologize for what he may or may not have done in his infancy.

He doesn't call to apologize to his own parents though, instead, he goes to the linen closet and pulls out the organic, non-toxic cleaner that Fidel had recommended they start using after Cati's birth, as well as a bucket, a mop, and several cleaning rags. As he walks back past the playpen he can see that his daughter has managed to fall back asleep already despite the night's excitement. She's gone back to being deceptively cute and he almost feels like he can't be angry with her anymore. Or maybe he wasn't even angry, to begin with, just absolutely confused.

By the time he returns to the nursery, Camille has pulled her hair back into a ponytail and is looking at the floor with a grimace on her face. 

"Well, I guess this is part of being a parent," he sighs before passing her the bucket and mop.

"Hopefully not a regular part." The look on her face betrays that she is thinking the same thoughts he'd had earlier; that this type of behavior should be beneath their child.

Without thinking, Richard leans in to kiss her on the forehead before pulling away. "We should...we should probably start cleaning now."

Richard isn't sure exactly how long the next period of time lasts, but it is mostly filled with silence except for the occasional sound of involuntary gagging. Finally, when the room is clean, he finds himself collapsing in a far corner with Camille slumping quietly against him. 

His lids immediately grow heavy and he's prepared to fall asleep right here, future back pain be damned when Camille suddenly yawns and says "I guess I should probably put on some coffee now."

"Mhmm, sleep sounds better don't you think?"

She takes a moment to reflect before responding, "Not unless we the team to think we've both caught jungle fever. The sun is already rising."

Richard manages to crack open one eye to see that Camille's claim is indeed true. The sun is peeping over the horizon promising a day as hot and miserable as every other day on Saint Marie. He suddenly wants to call in sick, for both of them, but one of the rules that came with the detective inspector and detective sergeant actually being allowed to marry each other was that it couldn't affect professionalism and both being absent from work for sleep would certainly be unprofessional; not to mention there's currently a new team member that needs to be trained.

"Today is going to be an absolute nightmare," he groans wishing desperately that he won't have to rise from his admittedly uncomfortable, but still sleep-worthy, position.

Camille stands up quickly with an agility that reminds him of their age difference before offering her hand to pull him up as well. "There is one positive."

Richard is sure he must be looking at her like she's grown a second head, "And what exactly is that?"

"I don't think today can be worse than what we've already experienced."


End file.
